


Armistice

by LettersfromLaika



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Less than happy endings, M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 10:50:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersfromLaika/pseuds/LettersfromLaika
Summary: An AU drabble taking place post season 1.“But it does prove something.”Strongly suspecting that he would not like where this was going, Wolfgang buried his head in his hands. “Yeah?”“That you need each other.”Kala ends up pregnant with Rajan's baby. Wolfgang copes. Poorly. Honestly just a lot of angst, but with a resolution, and character development, so there is that.





	Armistice

It had begun, as many stories do, with a pregnancy test. Dubiously unwrapped, skeptically examined, instructions (because it was Kala) painstakingly read. They left her to handle that on her own, but when she emerged the whole cluster was hovering anxiously outside the pink door to her bathroom. 

Pink. Like the little plus at the bottom. 

Wolfgang was not prone to fantasy. On the whole he had been too busy surviving to develop an imagination, but he let himself linger there for a fraction too long. Long enough to examine the nervousness and anxiety in her expression; the quickening of their heart, to catalog every strand of hair that was escaping from its clip. 

And for a moment, just one achingly short moment, he allowed himself the luxury of pretending it was his. 

He really fucking hated himself for that. 

Monsters didn’t have any place in the events that followed. And as penance (and self preservation) he had tried to avoid the whole affair: the frenzy of activity that followed existence of the thing.

The thing. He didn’t even dare name it, didn’t think of the potential that it represented (but sometimes he sensed the echo of Rajan’s hands on her abdomen, and felt his skin crawl). 

It was no easy feat, blurring out nine months of gentle caresses over her swollen feet and ankles, the kindly glances from the fruit vendors on her street. The guilty pride they felt at the delighted expression on her mother’s face at the news, and an endless parade of advice from her aunties – don’t do this, don’t do that...

Then there were the tears of joy in her father’s eyes that almost made it all worth it, and how he would painstakingly cater to her fleeting cravings. How could Wolfgang deny her that? 

And Rajan himself, beaming a blindingly white smile, bringing her flowers at the end of every ultrasound, irises, bird of paradise, hothouse roses, and painting the bright yellow walls of the nursery himself. There should only be Kala’s feelings there, feelings that were untainted by his bitterness and darkness. 

Again and again, Wolfgang thought of the door in his mind, through which Kala would all too frequently flit, and again and again he locked it as tightly as he could.

Then with the same dogged perseverance that had once made him one of the best safecrackers in Berlin, he dove into the bottle (which was a predictable move, he had to admit, but highly effective), grounding himself until all that was left was the clink of glass on sticky dark countertops, and the scent of stale cigarette smoke. 

Felix didn’t know about this; where Wolfgang went after work. It was probably best he didn’t, Felix wasn’t the sort to intervene, but even Wolfgang knew this was getting out of hand. 

He visited the same bar almost every night, but not even the bartender, a round-faced girl that had looked at him with interest and then resignation as the days wore on, knew his name.

Just his order.

He was quiet about his thoughts too. There were words that he did not think about (the obvious ones: death, livers, bonnets, railroad tracks), and the he didn’t think too hard about the future, no plans, no furtive escapes, nothing that would alert her, raise alarms.

It worked too. 

Longer than he had hoped, and then they came for him. 

It was Wednesday - no Thursday. He was at the same hole-in-the-ground bar. He liked it because they were broke enough to serve him no matter how drunk he got, so long as he didn’t break anything. 

Wolfgang knew that he would have to leave soon, go back to his shitty little apartment, and wake up all too soon to meet Felix at the shop. This was important; maintaining the veneer of normalcy; he had to avoid suspicion as long as possible.

The bar was almost empty, radio humming tunelessly in his periphery; it’s regulars had long since learned to leave him alone. 

A warm hand, large and faintly callused, wrapped around his shoulder, accompanied the sound of a clearing throat that only he could hear. 

Wolfgang was in a decent mood; drunk enough that everything felt faintly detached, just an amusing movie, albeit a bit twisted. Thus he resisted the urge to shake his visitor off.

“So, they sent you,” he began quietly, not looking up as the scent of cologne, a variety way to expensive to belong in this place, filled his nose. Lito slid onto the barstool beside him.

His cluster-mate made a noise of affirmation, but didn’t reply. 

That was uncharacteristic, thought Wolfgang dimly, unable to hide the slight smirk that crossed his face. 

Still silence wasn’t so bad; in fact it was his preferred mode of being. 

Helping himself to a second glass and the bottle behind the bar, Wolfgang poured Lito a shot and slid it over to him with practiced ease. The bartender gave him a dirty look. 

“She hates me,” chuckled Wolfgang, pouring some liquor out for himself. Lito didn’t reply, and made no move towards his glass. He still hadn’t made eye contact. 

Wolfgang took a shot. 

Lito, unspeaking, sat stock still, staring resolutely at the flickering neon sign over the beer taps. 

Wolfgang considered him for another moment, and then poured another shot. His cluster-mate was dressed rather nicely: sporting a sharply pressed maroon velvet jacket, cream slacks, and a pair of sleek black sunglasses. It would have been laughable, if anyone else could see him, in a shit-hole like this. 

“Going somewhere?” 

For a moment he thought Lito wouldn’t respond, and that he really was going to get the silent treatment, but then the man sighed, unconsciously adjusting his cuffs. 

“Dinner, it's Hernando and I’s fifth anniversary.” 

“Lovely.” Wolfgang took another shot; letting his mouth twist slightly at the taste, “Don’t let me keep you -” 

“For fucks sake,” exploded Lito, and Wolfgang almost dropped his glass, “Why the fuck are you doing this?” 

“I don’t know what –“ 

“Yes you do.” Lito bit off the end of the sentence. “Her due date is in two weeks can’t you just fucking –“ 

“Fucking what?” inquired Wolfgang, raising an eyebrow sardonically, “Show up at the door with balloons and a stuffed bunny? Throw a cutesy parade with confetti and little pastel hearts? Oh wait Rajan already did that.” 

“Talk to her, be her friend, her family like the rest of us. This is not easy for her - you know that – she didn’t want it anymore than you did.” 

“Trust me, this is the better option.” Wolfgang groped fruitlessly for the bottle; the bartender had moved it just out of arm’s reach. 

“Have you asked her if she thinks that?”

“Do I need to?” Wolfgang snorted and settled for drinking Lito’s shot. “She made her feelings perfectly clear, don’t you think?” 

“She did what you asked.” Lito sighed and surveyed the dingy room with distaste; “Don’t pretend that you didn’t have a hand in it.” 

Wolfgang made another swipe at the bottle; this time he succeeded. 

“Leave me alone Lito.” 

A curious expression crossed Lito’s face at that, a bittersweet sort of sadness. With a twitch of his velvet clad shoulders he stood. 

“I can’t,” he turned, and Wolfgang had the impression of a set of doors opening, glided and ornate, a bowtie wearing waiter ushering them in. 

“That is the problem isn’t it?” 

Wolfgang almost turned to follow him, curious as to the promise of crystal chandeliers and rich, savoury, food. But he had looked too far to the right and his eyes caught the bank of tarnished mirrors he always carefully avoided. 

His expression grimaced at him, muddy and distorted on the dilapidated glass. He must be drunker than he had thought. Purple shadows dripped from the corner of his eyes down the sides of his nose. And he knew it was a trick of the light, the distortion, bloating his cheeks, dragging out the bright spots on his face to blotches, patchy and swollen, but for a moment his father’s face looked back at him. 

Anton leered. 

Fuck. He had been so careful.

His stomach lurched without warning. 

Slamming a fist-full of bills on the counter, he staggered out of his seat and into the bleak alleyway outside. He was keeled over puking his guts out before he could even locate the nearest grate. 

He didn’t go back to the bar after that. 

But he didn’t go see her either. 

*** *** ***

He was out with Felix when it began. Crowded all together at some ridiculously fancy club, table already wet with spilled alcohol, a bunch of Felix’s friends eyeing up the figures on the dance floor, Wolfgang nearly yelped at the sudden pain. 

“You ok?” asked Felix, who had felt him jump. 

“Stomachache, “ grunted Wolfgang, which was in a sense true, “I am going home.” 

Felix, who was no stranger to the beer shits, but unfamiliar with Wolfgang bailing on him abruptly, looked surprised and followed him out of the club. 

“I am fine,” muttered Wolfgang one last time through firmly clenched teeth, although it felt like his head was going to burst and his body was filled with an uncomfortable, foreign urgency. “I am fine.” 

The taxi ride was agony, but somehow he made it into his apartment, bouts of lucidity coming in-between extreme pain. From there he grabbed the nearest piece of fabric (a dishtowel) and put it between his teeth to muffle her screams. 

Kala was alternating between restless pacing and curling up in a ball on the floor of her bedroom, so he did the same.

Rajan watched with anxious eyes. 

The midwife was coming, he was promising, and faintly, somewhere Kala acknowledged. 

Wolfgang just whimpered. 

The contractions lengthened. There was no space between him and the searing agony. He was furious, he was desperate to escape; this pain was so much different than what he knew. There was no way to touch it; he had no control over its peaks and valleys.

Steady hands were on their back, guiding them to a soft bed, threatening to swallow them up. A kind creased face, traditionally dressed, but wearing bright blue gloves, caressed their shoulders, her lips forming a prayer that Kala repeated. 

Time wore on: he measured it by the ticking of his clock, ringing out in the silent apartment, Kala by the increasing chaos, the haggard look on her mother’s face. Rajan, pacing in the hall, her father’s restraining hand on his shoulder. 

“Just breathe,” a voice told them. “In and out.” And hysterical laughter almost overtook them.

Everything was getting damp, and the scent of blood was rich in the air. There was more chaos outside the door, raised voices. 

In and out, in and out, out and out, it turned from joke into a mantra. 

The pain intensified. 

People were shouting now, someone was screaming the hoarse screams of someone that had run out of voice. Her father had both hands on Rajan’s chest. 

Not enough, that was not enough, however to stop him bursting in, begging that she go to a hospital. 

The sweat now ran in rivulets down their back, between the lines on the midwife’s eyebrows. The urgency to push was becoming a singular drumbeat.

Kala was growing fainter with every passing breath, the hold she had on Wolfgang’s mind weakening. The door he had so carefully guarded now threatening to close if he let go. 

She had to stop him, the fear was still there, but exhaustion was stealing it way from her lips. 

“No, no hospitals,” he muttered hoarsely.

No records. No samples. No proof. He could do that couldn’t he, for Kala, he could at least spare her that. 

He became aware of the cluster now, anxious, and hovering. He supposed they had been their the whole time, but he was only now aware of them as Kala’s grip on him weakened. 

Her eyes opened, only halfway, blood vessels had broken in the whites, but the iris was still that unfathomably dark brown. 

“Its not good is it?” she murmured meeting Wolfgang’s eyes at last. 

“Shhh,” hummed the midwife, “Save your strength, I need you to push.” 

Kala barely acknowledged her, a drop of sweat slid down her cheek. “You came,” she whispered, “You’re here.” 

Wolfgang just nodded, and wiped a strand of hair off her forehead. He didn’t tell her he hadn’t had a choice. That really, this was just another inevitable thing in his life. They grimaced together as another contraction came and went. 

Kala reached out a shaking hand and he took it. There were quiet gasps of astonishment throughout the room; no doubt she looked possessed, gripping at thin air. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, brow crumpling with effort. 

Over twenty years of unrelenting tragedy, all without shedding a single tear, forced Wolfgang to keep his outward composure. 

On the inside... he wanted to hide under a rock and never come out. He wanted to rip his brains to shreds and spill his guts all over the floor and that would probably hurt less.

He wanted to beg her to leave Rajan. He wanted to kill Rajan and take her anyways, to hold her, and never have to share her with anyone ever again. He wished her to be free of this, this thing, the thing she had never wanted. The parasite that she accepted anyways, because it was Kala, and she had never shirked her duty. 

Not like him. 

Her eyes were closing now, lids all gummed up with tears. The connection wavered, like chalk slowly washed away by a rainstorm.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he said loudly. 

Kala blinked weakly in surprise. “What?” she whispered.

“You heard me,” Wolfgang, grasped her hand more firmly, gritting his teeth. “You can’t be giving up already.” 

As he knew it would a little fire began to build up behind her eyes. “Give up?!” Her mouth puckered into a proper frown, “You think this is easy?” 

“That’s right,” soothed the midwife, “Keep on fighting, you are doing so well.” 

Wolfgang just shrugged and stepped back. Kala looked like she wanted to throw something. “Seems like you are just quitting, typical, getting yourself into a mess, but not able to get out –“

“Mess? You- YOU want to lecture me about giving up?! That is all you do! You, you degenerate, drunken, cowardly demonic, –“ Kala seemed to run out of insults and let out a hoarse scream of rage instead. 

Wolfgang tried to smirk unaffectedly, but ended up doubled over as another contraction hit them, his face smacking against the towel covered hardwood floor. Kala didn’t seem to notice, she had both fists buried in her hair, as the midwife stood between her legs looking excited. There was a great welling of blood and fluid, and screaming such that his ears rang– and then, very abruptly Wolfgang passed out. 

*** *** ***

“Neurogenic shock,” said Nomi primly, when he came to, “Apparently, you couldn’t handle the sensation of the baby exiting the vaginal canal.” 

A series of graphic sensations that were not his floated through his consciousness and Wolfgang shuddered. The dishtowel was still in his mouth, so he gingerly spat it out before hoisting his aching body off the floor. Nomi, sitting cross-legged on his filthy couch watched without pity. 

“I need a drink,” he muttered. 

“Nope.” said Nomi. “I got rid of them while you were passed out.” 

Wolfgang regarded her with bleary dismay, “How is that even possible?” 

She shrugged then gestured at a steaming mug beside her, Wolfgang was very abruptly sitting in one of her and Amanita’s plush armchairs – “Have some tea, Neets made it for you.” 

Wolfgang gingerly took a sip. It was peppermint. Nomi seemed to be looking for a response. “Good,” he muttered grudgingly. 

“That was a kind thing you did for her,” said Nomi in response, reaching out and plugging in the tablet on her lap. “I know what it must have cost you.” 

“It was nothing,” Wolfgang replied feeling uncomfortable and staring at his hands. “Doesn’t make up for the rest of it.” 

“No,” Nomi agreed, taking a sip of the tea, Wolfgang felt the warmth slide down his aching throat, “But it does prove something.” 

Strongly suspecting that he would not like where this was going, Wolfgang buried his head in his hands. “Yeah?” 

“That you need each other.” 

*** *** ***

The nursery could have belonged on another planet, so foreign to Wolfgang it was. High above the din and stink of Mumbai, there was nothing but blue skies and warm sunlight streaming past half closed curtains, gauzy and light. The walls were indeed an aggressive yellow colour, the one that Rajan had picked out, but somehow Wolfgang couldn’t bring himself to hate it. 

It reminded him of the jeans that Kala had worn forever ago, when they sat together atop the temple of Ganesh. 

She fit in here. That thought came with a curious mix of satisfaction and pain. 

The baby was only a few weeks old. She had put him down to nap an hour ago, he would be waking soon enough, but for the moment he was fast asleep, fists tightly clenched around some sort of stuffed toy. 

Kala was sleeping too, uncomfortably hunched to one side, still wan and exhausted looking; a rag covered in spit up slung over one shoulder. Her laptop was open in front of her, humming away unattended, lines of data scrolling past. It was so quintessentially her, so determined to have both things, he almost wanted to laugh. 

Selfishly, Wolfgang wanted to blame Rajan for not helping enough, but he knew that if he ventured out into the living room he would find Kala’s husband in a similar state. 

Apparently, being a parent was hard. Who knew? 

Carefully, as if approaching an active bomb, Wolfgang leaned over the crib. The baby, he could not think it’s name yet, was a dead ringer for his father. Already dark little curls had sprung from his head, and a promising set of eyebrows had emerged. 

Riley appeared on the opposite side of the crib, cooing softly, and brushing a finger over one tightly clenched fist. She smiled softly as he hiccupped a little in his sleep, but Wolfgang could feel her sadness. 

“Do you want me to go?” he asked quietly. 

Riley pressed her lips together and shook her head, “Do you want me to go?” she replied. 

“No.” said Wolfgang, returning his gaze to the crib. What a strange pair they made, both of them standing there wanting what they could not have. 

“Do you think he will be like us?” he asked, more to distract himself from that thought than anything. 

Riley stroked the baby’s cheek thoughtfully, “I hope so,” she said at last, “and I hope not.” 

“Yeah,” Wolfgang sighed, “Me too.”

There was a stirring in the chair behind him, and in a flash Riley was gone. Kala blinked one eye and then the other open in surprise. “Wolfgang?” 

He inclined his head, searching for a reply, before the baby started making fussy noises beside him. In an instant Kala had scooped him up and brought him to her shoulder, rocking gently back and forth. 

“How are you?” he asked at last, lamely looking around the room before settling his gaze on the empty crib. The toy the baby had been holding was a little stuffed elephant. He suddenly felt the need to take a few steadying breaths. 

“Better,” replied Kala, briskly extracting a lock of hair from the baby’s fist. “You?” 

“Better,” he echoed. 

“Liar,” she replied. 

“Add it to the list of sins,” he murmured, reaching down to pick up the toy. He could have sworn he felt Kala flush. 

“It is for Ganesh,” she said, taking it from him, “The midwife gave it to me, saying that he was a miracle child, that he only lived because of the strength of my faith.” 

She smiled, a little ruefully, “It is his favourite.” 

“Of course.” Wolfgang wandered to the window to peek at the view, why was he still here? 

“Are you happy?” he asked, turning abruptly. Kala looked up sharply, and then joined him at the window, still swaying back and forth. 

“Yes,” she said at last, “All things considered, yes.” 

“But you didn’t want any of this,” he ground out, “I know you didn’t.” 

“No,” she replied, “I didn’t, but there is nothing I can do to change it now. Perhaps this is just the way things were intended to be this lifetime.” 

“And what,” Wolfgang was oddly incensed, “In the next one Ganesh lets you take some time off from popping out kids to travel the world? To be with the person that you–“ he cut off that sentence with a snap of the jaw, he couldn't go there now. That was a dangerous place, filled with raw stinging hurt.

“I can still travel the world,” replied Kala, gently laying a hand on his arm. Wolfgang ignored the goose bumps that caused. “I have seven other selves, I will always be able to do the things I dreamed of, be with the people I love.” 

She cocked her head at him, as always, able to see right through the usual bullshit, the façade that worked on everyone else. “It will just be in a different way from how I thought.”

Wolfgang swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“I know,” she continued forestalling any protests, “But, each of us has their gifts and burdens; on both accounts, mine is duty.”

Once again, Wolfgang was cowed by her wisdom. How could she just stand there so accepting, so certain that all was going according to plan, when all he wanted to do was fight? He wished he could hate her for that, but he never would. 

“So now what?” he said, still staring out the window, “What would you have me do?”

“I don’t know,” replied Kala, “That is up to you.” 

She sighed as the baby cooed a bit and squirmed on her shoulder, “Here, would you like to hold him?” 

Wolfgang froze, and Kala giggled slightly. “Like this,” she said, “Make your arms into a cradle,” Numbly, he did as instructed, and the little bundle was deposited into his arms.

“Heavy,” he muttered. 

“He was nearly 5 kg when born,” said Kala proudly. 

Upon closer inspection, he did have something of Kala in his expression, the shape of the mouth perhaps, turned up at the corners, as if about to break into a shy smile. 

Wolfgang imagined how this must look to her, the intruder in her sunlit nursery, dressed for the cold in black leather, and heavy boots.

“It’s a scary world, he has come into,” she said at last, a sad smile crossing her face.

“He will have protection,” replied Wolfgang, almost absent-mindedly, caught up in his examination of the baby’s face, he wouldn’t have Kala’s eye shape, but maybe her thick, long, lashes. 

“I know.” Kala reached up to touch his cheek. A sound from the other room made her draw her hand away; Rajan was awake. 

“I have to leave.” said Wolfgang at last, carefully returning the baby to her arms. He didn’t mean from this room. 

“I know,” repeated Kala, “Will you keep in touch?” 

Wolfgang smiled ruefully, “I don’t think I will be able to help it.” 

Kala didn’t say anything but nodded, cradling the infant to her chest, as Rajan came into the nursery, looking just as rumpled as her. Wolfgang watched as she turned away, the very sight he didn’t think he could bear, and walked into Rajan’s arms. 

She was right. She did seem somewhat happy. If not, then at least resigned. 

Wolfgang let go.

Or at least he tried.

*** *** ***

“You are fucking insane,” said Felix, watching as Wolfgang double-checked his backpack. “There isn’t anything in Nepal but fucking mountain goats and monks.”

“We will find out won’t we?” Wolfgang hummed to himself as he pinned a little German flag, a half ironic gift from Felix, to his pack. 

“You will,” muttered Felix. 

“You going to be ok?” asked Wolfgang, turning to his friend with a twinge of guilt. 

“Yeah,” Felix waved dismissively, then brightened, “Hey maybe I can meet you in Amsterdam or something, after you are done being a monk.” 

“I would like that,” replied Wolfgang, slinging the bag over his shoulders and adjusting the straps so the weight settled at his hips. His taxi was waiting outside.

Felix squinted at him, “You look better man,” he concluded, “For a while there...” 

“I know,” said Wolfgang, pulling his friend into an affectionate headlock, “I think things will be better now.” 

“Good,” replied Felix, muffled as he fruitlessly tried to escape. “Take care of yourself,“ he got out finally, escaping Wolfgang and making a few mock jabs. 

“You too.” Wolfgang took a deep breath, and tossed Felix his keys. The taxi outside honked as he descended the last flight of stairs. 

It was a blustery spring day, the sort that made the skyscraper windows bounce with little glimmers and rainbows, and the ends of his jacket flap pleasantly. 

The taxi driver was a chatty fellow, humming away to the tunes on the radio. 

“You travelling on your own?” he asked as the car pulled smoothly into the exit line for the airport. 

Wolfgang, felt a faint grin cross his face, a bit stiff, a bit unpracticed, but genuine none the less. 

He felt the warmth of his cluster beside him, “No, not even close.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this sometime after the Xmas special. It is a little depressing. Sorry about that.... Hope you like it anyways. Should have a chapter up for Invisibility Trap tomorrow, and that will be less depressing... ish... in the long term. *cackles*


End file.
